


Fly Me Friendly

by sexualthorientation (sexyscholar)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Airplane Sex, Bad Puns, Barebacking, Biting, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Service with a smile, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyscholar/pseuds/sexualthorientation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To get to a vacation getaway in the islands, Ron and Draco take to the skies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly Me Friendly

~*~*~

Ron had never done well in cramped places.

Some of it had undoubtedly stemmed from his childhood. As far back as he could remember, no matter the rearrangement or reassignment of rooms at the Burrow, the youngest Weasley male had never had enough room to stretch out anywhere for very long. In adulthood, he'd outgrown most of his brothers, and while Ron was used to being too tall for nearly any space to fit properly, it didn't make it any easier to deal with.

Now, he wriggled uncomfortably, wishing that he hadn't been so adamant about taking the seat by the window. If he'd chosen the one along the aisle, he might've at least been able to stretch his legs a little. Ron shifted again, and the man seated at his right huffed a put-upon sigh.

"What? What'd I do now?"

Draco turned to him, brows furrowed, and set the travel magazine he'd been leafing through on his lap. "Can't you sit still? Do you have some nervous tick I should be made aware of?"

"No-- I'm just trying to get comfortable here. Really, you'd think Muggles only came in _short_. What do those basketball players do when they travel?"

"I'm sure I don't know," the blond replied.

Ron made another attempt at stretching out, but he only succeeded in bumping the seat in front of him. The woman seated there cleared her throat meaningfully, and the redhead mumbled a quiet apology to her back. "How much longer before we land?"

Draco glanced at his silver wristwatch. "Still another two hours. Nervous, Weasley?"

"Of course not," Ron answered, sounding sharper than he'd meant to. He paused and leaned over to the other man, lowering his voice. "I'm just ready to be _on_ holiday instead of still getting there."

The other man shook his head lightly and snickered, resuming his reading.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked.

"Nothing. I was remembering that this was _your_ idea."

"Hey, we both agreed that it was beyond time for a vacation."

"It's not the vacation that I'm referring to -- it's the mode of transportation. You're the one who, for whatever reason, wanted to fly in this," Draco twirled his hand dismissively, "this tin can. If we'd taken a portkey like _I'd_ suggested, we'd already be lying on some decadent white sand beach, sipping an alcohol-laden concoction with a tiny paper umbrella floating in it. Or," Draco continued, resting the same hand on Ron's upper thigh, "we could have been wrapped up in bed, licking said concoction off of each other..."

Ron wobbled, his body reacting to the image Draco's words had planted in his brain: the blond's delightfully wicked tongue dipping into his navel, slurping and suckling at his skin in earnest until he found the spots that made him tremble and moan beneath the sheets. The mere thought made him half-hard in his trousers, which only added to his discomfort.

"There's no rush," he said calmly, attempting to allay his lust.

Draco's roving hand eased upward into the vee of the redhead's trousers until it was resting lightly over his crotch. He squeezed, and Ron nearly bit into his tongue. "Speak for yourself," he teased.

"Look," Ron said, pulling Draco's hand away with more than a little regret, "I know we could have been there already but, well...I wanted to try something different, you know? Something with a little sense of adventure, I guess."

"Hmm, adventure. Yes, it doesn't get much more adventurous than worrying about the possibility of something flying into the engines of one of these blasted things, making it catch fire or something and watching our lives flicker before our eyes as we plummet toward the ocean. I'm simply _giddy_ with all of this adventure."

With his cramped legs and arms, Ron was already feeling less than pleasant, but Draco's snide complaints served to put him over the edge.

"You know," he growled, "you could have helped plan this. You didn't. You could've offered your input, and I mean something other than complaining every. Other. Fucking. Minute."

"I _did_ help," Draco shot back, curling the magazine into a tube and gripping it in his long fingers. "I told you that I thought this was a stupid idea, but I went along with it anyway. I mean, I paid for this, didn't I?"

Ron's Weasley pride was stung at the allusion to money. "And you're not going to let me forget that for a second, are you?"

"You wanted to do this, so I did it. I should think you'd be a little more appreciative," Draco said suggestively, replacing his hand on Ron's thigh and squeezing it.

"Appreciative?" Ron jerked his leg away as best he could and rubbed at the headache nudging against his temples. "If you really didn't want to do this, you could have said so."

The other man laughed haughtily at that. "Sure, and then have to put up with you while you sulk and pout like a bloody child for the entire holiday? No thanks."

"I do not sulk!" Ron yelled, indeed sounding every bit like a petulant child and unwittingly proving Draco's point.

The elderly woman sitting in front of them turned around to look this time. "Could you please keep your voices down? There are other passengers on this flight."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps you should direct your attention to one of them instead of sticking your wrinkled nose into affairs that are no business of yours."

The old woman gasped. "Well, I never!"

"Then now is an excellent time to start," Draco replied, his tone cloying. He turned to look at Ron, who was now gaping at him. "What?"

"I can't believe you," Ron said. His mind was still reeling at how quickly they'd managed to spin themselves into an argument. "Only _you_ could take what was supposed to be a relaxing trip and riddle it with drama. I don't know why I bother trying with you."

_Draco flinched, as if the redhead had flicked ice water into his face. "Then I don't know why I bother trying either." He shoved the rolled magazine into the slot at the side of his seat, unbuckled his safety belt and stood up._

_Ron immediately recognised the look of hurt on his lover's face, and while he regretted what he'd said, he certainly wasn't going to let Draco know that. "Where are you going?" he asked with an intentional note of disinterest._

_" _Away from you_." _

The words pricked his skin like needles. "The plane is nothing but a flying tin can death trap, remember?" Ron said sardonically, his anger reaffirming itself. "We _can't_ get away from each other."

The side of Draco's mouth curled into a sneer. "Watch me," he drawled.

"Fine then." Ron flopped back in his seat, banging his elbow against the armrest and trying his best not to show how much it stung.

" _Fine_."

"Be that way," Ron gritted out after Draco had stormed off.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and looked out at the vast blue water thousands of feet beneath them, and noted a sour feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with their elevation. He felt uneasy and loose at the joints, as though he were dangling from something.

A flight attendant passed down the aisle, checking on the passengers, and Ron stopped her for a shot of bourbon.

"Certainly, sir." She reached down to a shelf on the cart and pulled out a very small bottle of alcohol. "Would you like to order something for your friend?" she asked, handing it over to Ron, who promptly opened it.

"Him?" The redhead shrugged and took a sip of alcohol -- the burn was welcomed as it passed down his throat and into his belly. "No, he's off... sulking somewhere, I imagine." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his lips tingling with the drink that didn’t taste _precisely_ like bourbon. It was familiar enough, but sweeter and spicier than any brand Ron had had before.

The attendant leaned down and gave him a reassuring smile, and while Ron was certain she'd spent many flights practising it, it did help lighten his mood a little. "I'm sure he'll come back," she said quietly. "He's pretty crazy about you."

Ron laughed amidst another swallow and coughed. "You think so, huh?"

"It's obvious. It's in the way he looks at you. You'll make up before we land." The woman gave him a wink and then directed her attention back to her cart and other passengers who were signalling for her.

"I don't care," Ron muttered, lying to himself. He polished off his heady bourbon and yawned. The alcohol quickly spread throughout his bloodstream, leaving him suddenly feeling very tired.

He turned his legs to the space made available by Draco's leaving, and shifted his upper body until he was comfortable enough to doze. _At least he can't get off the plane before we land,_ he thought as he was pulled into impromptu sleep.

~*~*~

"Mr. Weasley? Mr. Weasley, may I have a word with you please?"

Ron snuffed and shifted a little, stirring at the sound of his name. The side of his face was cold, and when he opened his rather bleary eyes, he realised that, at some point during his nap, he'd pressed his face against the window.

He pulled his long legs back in to his own space and shuffled to an upright position. "Mmph?" he mumbled as a reply, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"A word, sir?"

Ron looked to his right to find that his partner still hadn't returned and he scowled. Draco was without a doubt the most stubborn man, other than himself, that he'd ever met. The redhead could picture him, sulking elsewhere on board, waiting for Ron to be the first to bridge the divide.

 _Like hell I will_ , he thought willfully.

"Mr. Weasley, sir."

"Oh sorry, yeah?" He was too busy arguing with Draco in his head to look up at who was speaking to him, but he did recognise the uniform of another flight attendant waiting in the aisle. "If it's about our tickets, you'll have to wait until my -- for _him_ to come back," he said, gesturing to Draco's emptied seat.

The flight attendant didn't speak, but instead leaned closer to Ron's head, permeating his personal space.

"Um, would you mind moving ba--" He inclined his head to find himself looking at, not another flight attendant, but at Draco.

"A _private_ word, sir?" the blond asked.

" _Draco_?" Ron blinked and rubbed his eyes several times, but each time he opened them, he was presented with the same indisputable fact: Draco was wearing makeup, and a fair bit of it, too. "What the hell are you doing?" he said under his breath.

The blond moved in closer, brushing his lips against Ron's cheek. "I have a pressing matter that requires your prompt attention," he whispered into his partner's reddening ear.

 

Ron couldn't bring himself to turn away from Draco, but he couldn't just give in to him either. "I'm angry with you, remember?"

Draco straightened to his full height and adjusted his jacket, and Ron was able to get a good look at what the man was wearing. He was dressed like one of the attendants who'd been waiting on them for the last few hours. The short grey jacket and deep blue blouse - and even the silly cap perched on his head - were surprisingly becoming on him, but not as much as the skirt orbiting his slim hips.

"Come with me," Draco said with a lusty smile, and began walking down the aisle to the rear of the plane.

Ron was flummoxed, a varying array of thoughts whirling about in his head: he was sore with Draco and still feeling uncharacteristically woozy from his nap, but...

Really, how often did one get propositioned by his undeniably _male_ partner in a skirt?

They could always resume their argument once they'd touched down, Ron thought as he fumbled with the buckle of his safety belt.

Draco was already at the spiral staircase to the upper deck by the time he caught up to him. Letting his eyes move downward, Ron could see that the other man really had outdone himself: wearing a pair of high-heeled grey pumps, his toned legs were shaded by black stockings with thin seams that ran up and under his skirt to the glories that were hidden beneath. He followed him up, anticipation crackling over his skin like static electricity.

Ron noted that not once did Draco turn around to see if he was indeed following him -- he suspected the smug bastard knew he probably wouldn't have to, and honestly, the redhead was too entranced by the smooth sway of Draco's arse as it moved under his infernally tight grey skirt to care.

"Right here," Draco said, pressing his back to the slim door of one of the lavatories on the upper deck.

The redhead looked at the door, his eyebrow arched in bemusement. "You can't be serious. I could barely fit in there on my own, there's no way in hell we can both--"

Draco lifted the latch to open the door and pulled Ron in by the collar of his shirt, closing it behind them with a soft click.

"What's this all about?" Ron asked, pinning Draco against the counter. "The--this whole get-up?"

"Do you like it?"

Upon closer inspection under the fluorescent light, he could see that Draco's eyes were rimmed with kohl and his lips painted with a kind of pink, shiny something that made them look positively _pornographic_. Lips like that only had one suitable place: wrapped tightly around the base of a cock, and his own twitched and swelled against the zipper of his trousers at the idea.

"It makes you look cheap," he said, hoping to wipe the superior smirk off of Draco's powdered face.

Insufferably, the blond's smile grew wider. "On the contrary, I'm exceedingly expensive." He ran a finger along the pulsing vein in Ron's neck. "How long are you going to be unhappy with me?" Draco pouted, making his painted mouth look even more indecent.

"I don't know. I'm of a mind to--" Talented and familiar fingers dipped into his trousers and curled around his prick. "I...nngh..."

"Gods, you're so _easy_ ," Draco whispered, swiping over the head of Ron’s cock with his the pad of his thumb.

Ron shuddered hard and let his head fall against Draco's shoulder. "Just... shut up," he breathed. He lifted his head, meeting the other man’s gaze. "I didn't know you were into this kind of thing," he began, tugging at Draco's skirt.

"For all the time we've been together, there are a lot of things you have yet to learn about me, Weasley," Draco answered, licking the fine line of Ron's jaw and slipping his other hand down and into the back of his trousers. "I am not, nor have I ever been, merely the sum of my parts."

"You talk too much."

Draco's perseverant fingers found Ron's backside and tugged him close. "Fine; then let's fuck instead."

Ron's eyes widened. "Here? You can't be serious. How?"

"Well, I'll spread my legs...and you'll push that magnificent cock of yours into my arse and pummel me until I beg the gods for release." He pulled his hands out of Ron’s trousers and nibbled at the tip of one of his own fingers.

Ron swallowed hard at the image of filling Draco to the hilt and fucking him into oblivion. "Not that I'm complaining," he began, "but what the hell brought this on? We were fighting not--" -he paused -- he couldn't remember how long ago they'd had their fight. "We were arguing."

"When are we _not_ arguing? Honestly, Weasley, if we forwent sex every time we fought, I'd never get laid. Anyway, when you insisted on travelling in this contraption, I did a little research and stumbled across an interesting bit of information. Apparently, Muggles have this thing they call the 'Mile High Club.' Guess how you join up?" Draco teased, licking his lips.

The redhead felt his anger melting away like cubes of sugar in a cup of hot tea. He flashed back to the too-strong bourbon, the way the flight attendant winked at him, and he realised. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. I do hate being excluded," he said with a smirk.

Ron slid his hands under Draco's skirt and ran them over his thighs. The thin silk stockings were smooth and surprisingly cool against the blond's warming skin. The tips of his fingers bumped against garter clips, and he whimpered. "You've really gone all out," he said, mouthing his neck.

"Anything worth doing and all that," Draco said, placing a kiss on Ron's temple.

With increasingly greedy hands, Ron continued upward toward Draco's groin, tracing lines along his inner thighs, and froze at not _entirely_ unfamiliar material, soft and lacy, stretched over his erection. "Are these -- are they what I think they are?"

Draco grinned. "You can't wear pants under something like this," he said, gripping the skirt in his hands. He shifted his hips upward and pressed his groin into Ron's touch. "You like them?"

"Merlin..." Ron whispered, distracted. He slipped his fingers under the thin straps that rode low on Draco's hips.

"Don't rip them," Draco said, nipping lightly at Ron's chin. "They're my favourite."

Ron's jaw unhinged. " _Favourite_? You have more of these things?" The redhead's mind whirled at the thought of Draco wearing all sorts of frilly assorted knickers under his perfectly _normal_ clothes -- simply imagining it made his prick ache with the promise of sex they hadn't had yet. "That's...I don't even know what to say to that."

"You don't have to say anything. You just have to fuck me."

Ron's last thread of control snapped and he pushed forward, grinding his lips against Draco's, determined to wipe every bit of that tawdry pink paint from them. It tasted sweet, like candy floss, and Ron indulged himself a little, biting the man's lower lip. His thumbs pressed hard into Draco's hips -- he was reasonably certain the man would have small oval-shaped bruises there in the coming days.

"Scoot back," he said, pulling his hands from under the skirt.

Draco quirked a fine eyebrow. "No."

The redhead blinked. " _No_?"

"No." Draco arched back and pressed his fingertips against the mirror behind him. "I want to watch us."

Ron felt heat spindle down his spine at the idea and he kissed Draco once more, hard and full on the mouth, before spinning the smaller man around so that they both faced the mirror. "You're such a dirty bitch."

"Are you complaining?"

"Not a bit," Ron assured him. He took off Draco's cap and massaged his scalp through fine, blond hair, enjoying the soft moans it elicited from the other man. "Beautiful," he murmured before sliding his hand around Draco's neck. Draco automatically let his head fall back against Ron's shoulder and closed his eyes, and the redhead took the opportunity to nip and lick at the exposed skin.

Draco raised his arm, hooking it behind Ron's neck. "Yes," he hissed. "Bite me, love."

Ron obliged, opening his mouth and pressing his teeth into the tender flesh -- not so hard as to draw blood, but enough to leave his mark, and Draco writhed against him, moaning as his veins pulsed hot against Ron's mouth. His other hand snaked over Draco's chest and pulled his blouse out from the waistband of his skirt, unfastening several of its buttons and slipping inside. The skin was hot and soft under his touch and Ron's hand moved up and to the side until it found one of Draco's nipples. He flicked the pebbled nub with his thumb and Draco let out a soft, mewling sound.

"Ron, oh Ron," Draco babbled, pushing back against the redhead's pelvis. The hand he'd linked behind Ron's neck had moved up into his hair and his fingers gripped into it, twisting. "Fuck me," he urged.

"Gonna make you beg for it first," Ron growled, pinching Draco's nipple with his thumb and index finger. The blond whined and thrashed, the heavy tweed of his skirt rubbing over Ron's trapped erection. Ron gave the shell of his ear one last nip before letting both hands fall at the blond's sides. Watching them in the mirror, he gripped the skirt in his hands and tugged it up, revealing Draco's lower half, inch by inch, until the material was bunched around his waist. Ron had never considered what it might be like to fuck Draco in a skirt before, but now - seeing what awaited him in the mirror, he couldn't imagine anything more _right_.

Draco had made a stellar fashion choice, electing to wear black underwear, which made a gorgeous contrast against his pale skin. Lean, muscled thighs were sheathed in fragile silk, and Ron slid his hands over them, marvelling in the barely-there material. Draco had apparently shaved: Ron couldn't feel a single hair on his legs as he moved upward, running his fingers under the black satin straps of Draco's garters. "Your skin feels wonderful," he whispered against Draco's shoulder.

"I'm glad you like it," Draco replied, a little breathless and his kohl-rimmed eyes glassy as he focused on Ron's roving hands.

"I do. I might have to make you do it more often." Ron continued up, moving his hands so they were now in the narrow space between Draco's upper thighs. He could easily see Draco's erection, the rosy head of his cock peeking out from the low waistband of his lacy knickers. He skimmed the fingers of both hands over the bulge, and Draco slumped forward, setting both hands on the counter for leverage.

"No no," Ron admonished. "Lean back against me. You went through all this trouble - you should get to see how _pretty_ you are."

The blond whimpered but obeyed, resting his weight against Ron's frame. Ron's hands slipped back down between Draco's thighs, and Draco squeezed his legs together, clamping both of them in their damp heat.

Ron chuckled. Draco could be such a bossy prat sometimes, but in the bedroom -- or in this case, a tight airline loo -- he was always quick to shut his pretty mouth and let Ron take control. "You're feeling it already, aren't you?"

"Yes... oh God."

He tugged his hand out from between Draco's legs and concentrate on squeezing the man's cock through his knickers. Draco keened and slumped forward, canting his hips into Ron's grasp. Ron let him rut against him for a few moments until Draco turned his face away and moaned, and then he took his hands away. "You said you wanted to watch," he reminded him. "Turn your head back 'round."

He did, and Ron rewarded him with a kiss on the side of his head. "Good boy -- or would you prefer to be a girl, all things considered?" He skimmed the palm of his hand over the tip of Draco's cock and delighted in the other man's shivering body draped against his.

"I don't care," Draco replied. "Just...just touch me, fuck me."

Ron smiled at Draco in the mirror. The blond really was breathtaking, especially like this: his impeccable hair wonderfully dishevelled, his flawless skin mottled pink and his lips swollen and slack from biting them incessantly -- he looked delightfully wanton. Ron tucked his thumbs into the band of Draco's knickers and rolled them down just low enough to expose his cock and arse. Draco's length bobbed and the redhead curled his fist around it, squeezing and pulling the spongy flesh.

Draco had completely opened his blouse and moved his hands inside; Ron could make them out under the shimmery silk, pulling at his nipples. "Ron, please," he gasped. " _Please._ "

The reedy plea sent a thrill up Ron's spine, and with his free hand he worked his cock out of his trousers. Already slick with clearish fluid, the conditioned air was especially cold when it hit the thin skin along his length. "Bend and spread," he ordered Draco, nudging the other man's feet apart. The tips of his heels scratched against the floor, reminding Ron that he was about to fuck Draco in a skirt and heels. That, in and of itself, would have been enough to excite Ron, but the fact that the blond had planned it, had _wanted_ it this badly, well...he knew he'd be wanking to the memory of this encounter for months, possibly years, to come.

"Yes." Draco went forward, setting one arm down on the counter while continuing to tweak one nipple with the other. His grey eyes were shining, watching Ron in the mirror. "Come on, baby," he added.

Ron redirected his attention to Draco's arse, the tweed skirt still bunched over his hips, and felt his heart knock about in his ribcage. He popped two fingers into his mouth and laved his tongue over the digits. He removed them and set them at Draco's clenching entrance, smoothing the wet tips over the puckered ring of muscle.

Draco moaned, pushing back into the touch. "You don't have to. Just... I've already prepared."

"I see. Well then," Ron said. He smiled at Draco in the mirror and shoved his two fingers in anyway. "You'll just be doubly ready when I pound into you."

"Oh!" Draco exclaimed, the sound muffled in the tiny space.

Ron was glad that he hadn't tried to disguise the sound, and he'd hoped that he hadn't thought to cast a Silencing Charm in the loo. The pants and moans and absolutely _filthy_ words that tumbled from Draco's lips during sex was one of the most erotic components of their coupling for Ron. He thrust his fingers into the man harder, hoping for more aural stimulation. He wasn't disappointed. The blond let loose a string of obscenities that he could have been arrested for even _thinking_ , let alone crying out at full volume.

A sudden bang on the exterior door broke Ron's concentration, and he stilled his fingers. "Oi!" an angry, alien voice called out from the other side. "Other people have to actually _use_ the bathroom!"

He opened his mouth to respond, but Draco beat him to it, yelling out, his voice rough with lust, "It's bloody fucking occupied -- use the other one!"

"Maybe we _should_ stop," Ron said. "It could be a while -- I'm nowhere near ready to let you come yet." He played in Draco's hole, swivelling his fingers inside for a second before removing them, and Draco whined.

"Ron, I swear to Merlin-fucking-god," he said, looking up at his reflection, "if you stop, I won't have sex with you for a _month_." Draco wriggled against him, and the head of Ron's prick slid wetly against the smooth curve of his arse.

The redhead gave a thought to stopping completely, but admittedly, he was enjoying watching Draco pull up to the counter and then push back again over and over, changing his angle ever-so-slightly each time. "Come _on_." He did it once more, again nudging Ron's length, and he groaned in heated frustration.

"You wouldn't last a day without my cock," Ron answered, heady with self-assurance. "Look at you now, you're practically _chasing_ it, Draco." He leaned forward and purred near his ear while his length slid up along the crack of Draco's arse. "You don't have to, you know. Just tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know what I need," he sneered.

The other man curled his upper lip and gave the blond a solid smack on the rump with his palm. "I know that you need a good lesson in manners," he scolded, smacking him again so hard it made his hand tingle.

Draco jerked forward, moaning heatedly with each slap. His hair smacked against his sweaty forehead and the tips of his fingers had turned nearly white from gripping onto the countertop. "I need -- I need you to fuck me."

Ron stopped spanking Draco and used the same hand to rub soothing circles over the now bright pink blotches on his skin. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

The blond shut his eyes tight and pulled his lower lip between his teeth. " _Ron._ "

"What do we say when we want something?"

"Please," Draco ground out. "I need you to fuck me, _please_."

Ron didn't waste time -- he took his solid prick in hand, pressed it to Draco's entrance and pushed in, sinking into his moist, tight heat. He stayed still for a moment, allowing Draco to squeeze around him like a vice, and then started to move slowly, taking in the slippery sound of flesh against flesh.

Draco's head dropped and lolled between his shoulders, gasping for breath. "Ohhh yes," he hissed. "Oh, fuck me, Ron -- fuck the breath out of me."

The redhead couldn't really hear him -- the banging outside had multiplied exponentially as the multitude of angry passengers yelled at them to get out of the bathroom. Ron didn't care: he was lost in the sight of his shiny-slick cock sliding into his lover completely and the band of rolled black lace just under his bollocks, brushing against them each time he moved. A thick moan rose from his throat, and Ron lay his chest against Draco's back, nuzzling his face into his short tweed jacket.

"Want to see us," he heard Draco whimper under him.

Ron briefly considered torturing Draco a little more, but the truth was, he wanted the same thing. Snaking an arm around his waist, he slowly pulled them up until he could easily see their reflections in the mirror.

If the blond had looked wanton before, he was positively _debauched_ now: the natural curl in his hair that Draco always worked so diligently to hide was showing, bobbing against his face in soft, damp waves. The line of spittle had leaked from the corner of his smeary pink mouth, the flush of his chest as it heaved under his opened blouse, the dichotomous image of his swollen prick wagging against his _skirt_ \-- the view alone brought Ron dangerously close to his climax and he bit his tongue to keep it bay.

"All mine," he growled, and grabbed Draco's length, fisting it quickly as his other hand clamped over his neck again. "Say it," he ordered with a nip at Draco's reddening ear.

"Nnnngh, God! I--I'm. All. Yours. Oh, shite -- gonna, gonna..."

"Yeah, come on." Ron squeezed hard at the base of Draco's cock and bit into the side of his neck. "Come for me -- only for me." He pistoned harder into the blond, obeying the familiar heat building in the pit of his stomach. "Come and scream and spurt all over your pretty little skirt. Oh, Draco... _fuckicantholdit_ ," he blubbered as his orgasm hit him like a bludger to the stomach, his pulsing cock shooting hot, thick seed deep inside of Draco.

"God, yes, fill me up," Draco cried out when his own climax claimed him, his short nails scratching the mock marble countertop. Milky come fountained out of his prick in uncontrolled strings, landing on what seemed like every available surface, even splattering against the mirror. Eventually the flow slowed down to a low pulse, dribbling down over Ron's clenching fingers.

Draco slumped back down to the counter, Ron draped over him -- both of them breathing hard from the mouth. "Oh my God," the blond gasped.

"That was unprecedented," Ron mumbled against Draco's neck. "Unfuckingbelievable."

They didn't have very long to appreciate their sticky afterglow: the pounding from outside filtered back in, and Ron pulled away with no small amount of regret. He tucked himself back into his trousers and helped Draco stand back up, albeit wobbly.

"Are you still angry with me?" he asked the redhead.

"I can't tell -- I'm still too woozy. I probably am and I'm sure we'll argue about it later. If nothing else, you've helped me overcome my dislike of cramped spaces." Ron watched Draco tug his knickers back into place and smooth his ruined skirt back down, and he lamented a little. Circling his arms around Draco's waist, he pulled him close and kissed him. "You know you're going to have to do this again, right?"

The blond gave him a smug grin. "Apparently -- you were a fucking _beast_ , not that I'm complaining in the slightest. I don't want to dress up _too_ often, though. I might start to think that you prefer birds and give myself a complex."

"Not a chance," Ron assured him. "Especially not when I've already got you all broken in..."

Draco buttoned up his blouse, reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a small black pocket wand to cast a Cleaning Charm on the scattered puddles. Then he aimed the wand at himself. " _Scourg--_ "

Ron had put his hand over Draco's mouth, shushing him. "No -- I like the thoroughly fucked look on you."

The other man raised an eyebrow, but he slipped the wand back into his pocket. "They're never going to let us on this airline again, you realise."

"Probably not," Ron agreed, lifting the latch on the door to unlock it. He took Draco's hand and stepped back out into the corridor, now littered with passengers wearing angry and shocked faces. A few of the younger female patrons gasped and giggled. Standing at the front, holding them at bay, was the flight attendant who had spoken to him earlier. Ron took Draco's hand and made his way over to her, ignoring the steely-eyed glares from the people behind her.

"So," he said, leaning in close, "what was that you put in my drink?"

The attendant's focus flickered to Draco, who cleared his throat meaningfully, and then back to the redhead. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know what you're referring to, sir," she answered with a coy smile.

Ron laughed. "No, of course you wouldn't." With Draco in tow, he started back down the spiral staircase to their level of the cabin.

"But, if you don't mind me saying," she said quietly after him, "it does seem to have agreed with you. You're in a far cheerier mood."

"That would be due to the efforts of your devoted... _staff_." Ron looked at his Draco, gorgeous and brilliant and terrifically wicked, and smiled. "Quite honestly, this is the best service I've ever had."

"We do try to accomodate our passengers' every desire," the attendant said.

"And you certainly succeed -- now I get what your advertisements mean about 'flying the friendly skies.'"


End file.
